


Come Out To Play

by mynameisnoneya



Series: White Bird and Black Dog [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/pseuds/mynameisnoneya
Summary: Sansa and Sandor are interrupted by Tyrion while in the midst of their role play, yet he is none the wiser.  As Sansa reflects upon her feelings for Sandor in the solace of her chambers, The Hound pays her a visit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story continues to explore the ongoing sexual relationship between Sansa and Sandor while she is still betrothed to Joffrey. I have not indicated her age, but since I'm blending this story with canon, Sansa would most likely be under 18. The sex depicted in this story is rough, but it is completely consensual. The dub/con tag is used only because of the role playing elements between Sansa and Sandor.
> 
> Although this story can stand alone, it is meant to be read after _Leave It On,_ the first story in this series.
> 
> Are you still reading this, even after reviewing the tags and warnings? Really? Well, then, kick back and enjoy part two of the smut-filled, rough sex role play between Sandor and Sansa!
> 
> Please note that I made sure to tag any and all characters that appear in this work, whether they have a speaking role or not. 
> 
> General disclaimer: GoT characters and quotes belong to GRMM - I own nor claim nothing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let me know by leaving comments and kudos!

_“Look who’s come out to play.  Do you think the king wants his little prize out wandering alone?”_

_“I’m going back to my chambers, ser.”_

_“You’re almost a woman.  The king will be having you soon…taking you into his bed.”_

_“My wedding night will be the happiest –“_

_“Stop that!”_

_“You’re hurting me!  Please, ser!_

_“Ser?  I’m a dog.  Remember?  The king’s dog.  And you’re his bird.  Would you sing a song for me, little bird?  A song about knights and fair maidens?  Go on, sing.”_

_“You won’t hurt me.”_

_“Sing!”_

_“I don’t know any songs.  Not anymore.”_

_\- Game of Thrones_

It was all an act.

All of the stupid Lannisters and Baratheons and all of their stupid servants and maids and the entire stupid, evil Kingsguard had absolutely no idea.

They thought her weak.  They thought her broken.  But they were wrong.

It was pathetic, really.

How was it possible but that such a young, inexperienced girl could fool an entire kingdom?

Just moments ago, Tyrion had caught her with Sandor as they stood in the hallway of the holdfast.  He obviously thought Sandor was scaring her, belittling her, perhaps even thinking about raping her.  The little imp looked so damn proud of himself for shooing away The Hound, for saving the poor, frightened little bird from the big, bad brute.

_If only he knew…_

If only Tyrion knew that the little rendezvous that he had witnessed between The Hound and The Little Bird had all been part of her plan.  _Her_ plan.  Part of her most enjoyable little game of seduction with her enormous, clandestine lover.  They had agreed earlier in the day while he was escorting back to her chambers from the godswood that they would meet tonight.

The Hound had agreed to come out to play once again, much to her delight. 

Emboldened by her passion for playing their game, she had asked him to accost her in public this time instead of sneaking to her chambers in private to begin their secret game.  As always, her warrior thought that she had gone mad when he heard her say that she wanted to engage in their dalliance out in the open, right under the noses of all of the spider’s minions lurking throughout the castle.

Yet as always, he acquiesced, telling her that he would approach her tonight after dinner was served.

Suffering through the boring dinner, picking at her meal, unable to eat in anticipation of what was to come, she had spent her time listening to the barely disguised argument between her bitch of a future mother-in-law and her dwarf little brother as well as the sadistic shite of a king trying to decide whether to remove the tongue of the musician who sang a song that he did not like or to have him drawn and quartered.

Most of her time during dinner, however, had been spent sneaking wayward glances at the king’s sworn shield.  Only once did she catch the infernally stoic Hound looking at her, and when she did, he shot her a wink so rapidly that if she had blinked she would have missed it.

When dinner had finally wound down to a point where she could easily beg her departure, she hurriedly made her excuses to leave the table, heading straight for her chambers, fully expecting The Hound to follow her.  She was ready.  The game was on.

And they were right in the middle of playing their game when that little moron had to show up just when things were getting good, just as Sansa was suppressing a moan in delight when The Hound’s strong hands gripped her forearm, his raspy voice commanding her to sing a song.

 _I despise that little imp, even if he’s the nicest one of the Lannisters,_ Sansa thought to herself as she sat on the edge of her bed, her legs tucked underneath her.  Since arriving in her chambers, she had allowed her handmaids to assist her in removing her gown but dismissed them quickly.  Sitting in her nightclothes now, she shivered slightly at the thought of The Hound’s hands removing the simple, gauzy shift from her body as he had done the last time they had lain together.

Her thoughts then drifted to the first time she had laid eyes on The Hound long ago when he had ridden into Winterfell with the fat king and his horrible family.  The mysterious, fearsome warrior all encased in his polished armor, silently daring the world to look at him cross-wise as he glared through the mouth of his helm, seemed so frightful back then.

Everyone thought that The Hound was nothing more than a violent, hateful barbarian whose only talent was to kill on command like a trained dog. 

No one dared cross him.  Everyone feared him. 

Everyone but Sansa.

At the tourney, the crowd of onlookers had assumed that when she stood to clap and cheer, she must have been publicly praising Loras Tyrell for being so handsome, brave, and gallant.  They had no idea that she hadn’t been cheering for that posh little sword-swallower.  Not at all.

“Open the door, girl,” she heard him command from outside her door, breaking her reverie.

Leaping to her feet at the sound of his deep voice, Sansa charged to the entrance to her chambers, pulling the deadbolt as quickly as she could.

“I thought you would have gone back to your quarters,” she said, the breathlessness in her voice causing his good eyebrow to raise in question.

“Are you going to chirp at me all night or are you going to invite me inside?” he chuckled as he pushed his way into her bed chambers.

“Do I have a choice?” she purred, closing the door behind him and fixing the deadbolt back in place.

“You always have a choice with me, little bird,” he replied softly as he turned on his heels, now facing her.

“And you’re not afraid Tyrion will catch us?” Sansa asked, tilting her head slightly as she slowly walked toward him.

“Nah, the little fucker is smart, I’ll give him that, but he’s not smart enough to figure out that you actually _want_ me.”

“He thought he was saving me from the mean old Hound putting his paws all over me.”

“Well, the imp thought wrong,” the Hound shot back.

“I think I remember being afraid of you once,” she replied sarcastically.  She couldn’t help but smile when thinking about that time when he had approached her ages ago, back when that homely, frightening executioner had stared at her like he wanted to take her head off while she was walking Lady.  Her Hound smiled at her that day.  He actually had smiled.  And that smile had been his unspoken pledge of allegiance to her.

“And now,” he asked as he slowly started to divest himself of his armor, chuckling to himself as he watched her drinking in the sight of The Hound shedding his protective layer, “Do I frighten you so, girl?”

“Never,” Sansa replied, closing the distance between them to lean forward, resting her dainty hands on top of his massive, callused ones as he was just about to remove his brigandine.  Standing on her tip toes to place a gentle kiss on his scarred cheek, she stepped back to get a good look at him; her head had to crane almost straight up in the air to look into his eyes.  “You don’t scare me,” Sansa added, “You’ll never hurt me.”

“Maybe I might,” he replied, chuckling darkly as she led him to her bed, “Might have if I had taken you right there in the stairwell, if the little bastard hadn’t shown up when he did.”

Without saying another word, Sansa helped him remove the rest of his battle gear.  Pauldrons, his gorget, the chain mail, all of the pieces one by one fell to the floor.  Standing only in his tunic and breeches, Sansa studied him intently.  As she reached out to him, taking one of his large, callused hands in hers, with her free hand she began to trace her fingers through the coarse, dark hairs exposed along the open neckline.  She made quite the show of licking her lips in anticipation of having him.

“Tell me,” she asked, her head cocked to the side as she gazed up toward his face, completely enjoying the way his breaths were coming short and ragged just by her simple touch alone, “Does the Hound want to come out to play?”

Sansa let go of his hand.  She turned to face her bed, climbing up on her hands and knees.  Turning to look at him over her shoulder, she smiled coyly at him as she wiggled her hips and ass at him.

The feral growl that came out of the giant man glaring down at her didn’t frighten her.  It excited her.

“You’re going to be the death of me, girl,” The Hound said with a smirk, “So this is how you want it, eh?  Want to be fucked like a bitch in heat again?”

“Show me how The Hound would have taken the little bird on the stairs,” she challenged.  “Your little bird wants to be taken tonight.  Make me sing a song for you, Hound.”

Without warning, he grabbed the hem of her nightclothes, yanking the sheer fabric gown up and over her narrow hips.  Tearing her small clothes from her body, he shoved her legs apart, widening her even further to his view.

“I’ll show you just how I would’ve taken you, Lady Stark,” The Hound rasped as he shoved his breeches and smallclothes over his chiseled hips and to down to his ankles, kicking them off completely.  Without further ado, he grabbed onto her waist, pulling her backward.  As she yelped in surprise, he impaled her onto his long, stiff shaft.

“Oh!  Sandor!” she cried out as she threw her head backward, feeling the length of him seated deeply inside her in an instant.  It was too much yet not enough.

“Call me Hound, wolf bitch,” he warned, raising his right hand and slapping her on the ass firmly to correct her mistake.  The Hound began to thrust inside her ruthlessly, not showing any signs of caring if she felt pain or pleasure.  Her moans and gasps spurned him on, exciting him beyond belief.  Using his knees, he alternated legs, pushing her thighs even further apart.

“How does it feel to be fucked like a whore by a dog?” he taunted, moving his hands from her waist to her shoulders, pushing her torso down until her face was buried in the thick blankets on her bed.  “Does milady like this?  Tell me, girl!”

Sansa could barely think let alone talk as The Hound rammed his cock into her over and over again, his tight grip on her skin causing her to wince in pain.  Clawing for purchase, she grabbed handfuls of the blankets beneath her, desperately trying to push upward to gain some leverage. 

No luck.  The Hound was too strong.  She was at his mercy.

“Please, Hound!” she begged, her eyes screwed shut tightly as the sensation of being taken from behind savagely while being forcibly spread out so wide was almost too much to bear.

“Please what?” he asked as he lowered his head.  The Hound began to nip at her long, pale neck, his hands now trailing down from her shoulders to reach underneath her.  Cupping her budding breasts through the fabric of her thin nightclothes, he roughly tore at her gown, opening it along the seam that ran between them.  Now fully exposed, he began to squeeze and grope her sensitive flesh in his enormous hands.

“Please…I need…” she moaned at the feel of his touch against her bare skin.  He rolled and pinched her hardened nipples as he gave her one good bite right between the shoulder blades.  That little love bite made her howl in ecstasy.

“I’ll not ask again,” he demanded while he began to tear the remaining jagged pieces of her tattered gown from her body, “Answer me!  Please what?”  As the last scraps of fabric fell limply to the bed, he reached up to remove his tunic, tossing it over his shoulder and onto the floor behind him.

“Finish me, Hound!” she groaned.  Sansa was teetering on the edge of the abyss, ready to fall at any moment, her peak just around the corner if only he would…

Before she could think any further on the matter, The Hound obeyed her orders.  Pulling out of her completely, he grabbed her by her legs, yanking her firmly to make her fall flat onto her stomach.  Flipping her like one of her little dolls, he spun her in the air.  She landed on her back with a squeal. 

“Shut your mouth, you stupid wolf bitch, before you wake the entire holdfast!” he barked.  He clamped his left hand over her mouth, silencing her completely.  Sansa’s eyes widened as he grinned lecherously at her.  “One more squawk like that, and I’ll cut your throat.”

Enjoying the look of terror washing over her, he released her mouth, seizing her thighs and wrenching them apart, and stepped in between her legs.  Once again grabbing her by her hips, he forced his cock inside her tight cunny without waiting for consent and began to pound into her as forcefully as he could muster.  The entire bed shook as he took her hard and fast, the feet of the bed scooting slowly across the floor.

“Yes!  Yes!” she moaned as her hands began to massage and knead her own breasts.

“Tell me that you want this,” The Hound snarled as he let go of her body to hold onto the edge of the bed above her head.  He continued to ram into her, completely turned on by the sight of her groping her own body, “Tell me that you love me taking you like this.”

“I love you fucking me, Hound!” she whimpered.  She wrapped her legs around his waist tightly, locking her ankles in place.  Letting go of her breasts, she reached up to grab the edge of the bed above her head, placing her hands over his.

“Oh, Sansa,” Sandor murmured as his steel-gray eyes clamped shut.  The sensation of her warm, wet cunny wrapped tightly around his member was starting to cloud his ability to keep up with the confounded game she loved to play.  “You feel so fucking amazing!”

Sansa loved Sandor.  She loved it when he took her slowly and carefully, looking her in the eyes with unspoken adulation, worshipping her body with his own.

But Sansa also loved it rough.  She loved her Hound.  And she really loved being in control.

Letting go of the bed, Sansa decided it was time that she assume command of the situation.

“Hound!” she ordered fiercely, her entire demeanor changing in an instant, “Your future queen orders you on your back.  Now, dog!”

Sandor’s eyes flew open so fast that she almost thought she felt a breeze come off his eyelids.  His tongue felt locked in place; he couldn’t even speak at the sudden shift of the dynamic in the bedroom.  Obeying implicitly, he did as he was commanded.  Releasing her from his grasp, he pulled out of her and laid down on the bed.

Sansa rolled over as quickly as he had lain beside her, throwing a leg over his hip until she was sitting on top of his rock-hard erection.

“Watch as your future queen rides you, Hound,” she smirked, taking his cock into her small hand, pumping him a few times just to take pleasure in watching his eyes roll into the back of his head.  Lining him up at her entrance, she slid him inside of her deliciously slow until he was completely seated inside her.

“Fucking hell!” he groaned as she took his massive hands in her hers, pinning them beside his head, rocking her hips back and forth over and over again.  Her long, fiery tresses dangled freely, cascading around his face like a copper curtain.

“Look at me, Hound,” Sansa purred as she let go of his hands, moving to hold onto his broad, muscular shoulders, “I want you to watch me while I come.”  With that salvo, Sansa started riding him in earnest, lifting herself high enough to almost let his dick slip out of her before slamming back down again.

“Gods, you’re fucking amazing…so beautiful…” Sandor praised as he watched her chase down her climax.  He reached in between where their bodies were joined, rubbing her sensitive little pearl hidden inside her slick folds.  “Let me see you come, my queen.”

Sansa’s peak came hard and fast, washing over her almost as soon as he has started touching her cunny.  Her nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders, and she could hear him hiss in pain as she drew blood.  Completely spent, she flopped backwards on the bed and let her legs fall wide open.

“Take me, Hound,” she giggled, “Make me yours.”

_That ought to do it…_

Before she knew it, The Hound was on top of her like a dog pouncing on its kill.  Reaching down to grab her ankles, he bent her legs until her thighs were touching her breasts.  When he sheathed himself inside her in one swift motion, he laughed at the yelp of surprise.

“Tell me you’re my bitch,” The Hound growled, his thrusts becoming increasingly erratic, “I want to hear you say it!”

“I’m your bitch, Hound!” Sansa replied as she squeezed his firm ass in her hands, “Only yours!”

“Fuck, I’m…shite!” he shouted as he jerked his cock from her womanhood, his hand fisting his cock as he spurted his release onto her thigh.

Collapsing onto the bed beside her, Sandor laughed at the sheer insanity of it all.

“Come here,” he whispered as he pulled her into his long arms, embracing her tightly as she rested her head on his shoulder.  Sansa languidly traced circles in his thick, dark chest hair dampened in sweat from the exertion of their coupling.

They lay together in the silence of her chambers, both still reveling in the glory of the moment.

“Sansa,” Sandor began while stroking her copper hair, “Why do you want The Hound?  Why do you choose to lie with an old, scarred dog like me?”  He continued to pet her, turning his head slightly to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She thought long and hard before she responded to his declaration, knowing full well that he could easily smell a lie from a thousand paces.

“At first, I chose you because you were the only one in this wretched place who showed me any compassion,” she replied, choking down the tears that dared to escape, “I gave myself to you to ensure that you would protect me.  And then…” she trailed off, biting her lower lip.

“And then what?”

“I fell in love.”

“In love?”

“Yes, in love.”

Sandor smirked as he stared at the ceiling above them.  “In love with whom?  That little Tyrell fop?  The pretty little knight with the shiny armor and the sweet-smelling roses?”

Sansa smacked Sandor on his hairy chest, rising up to look him in the eyes.  “Am I fucking him or you, you idiot?”

Sandor didn’t respond, instead remaining quiet as he laughed loudly, enjoying his attempt at humor.

“And for the record,” she added, trailing her hand slowly downward, tracing the line of coarse hairs from his naval southward, “I love it when The Hound comes out to play.”

**Author's Note:**

> Again, if you liked this story and would like to see more along these lines, please make sure you leave a comment to let me know!


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